Column Post by Kelly Heuer
I want to quit. I want to walk away from all that I’m doing outside my family. Really and truly, in this moment, I just want to throw my hands up and say, “Forget it! I’m done!” You know, really melt down into full blown diva mode and shriek, “What’s my motivation here, people?”
I’ve been here before. This is not a new place. I’m sure you’ve all been here, too, at one point or another. But oddly, this is a new sensation: It feels as though each and every step forward can only be accomplished by sledge-hammering a wall directly in front of me.
Each step brings a new wall.
Each wall torn down reveals yet another one behind it.
Can I please put aside this sledge hammer without having to pick up a battering ram in its place? No, I cannot.
This is no vain need to conquer or control. It’s not about power or authority. It’s about my Father pushing me here, handing me a sledge hammer, and whispering in my ear, “This is what I want you to do: Knock these down.” So I bang away at the walls erected before me, and I let myself remember why I’m doing it. And I tearfully show my Father my blisters and splinters. And I scream at the barriers and those who built them.
And I know that I was given the sledge hammer for a reason.
The walls have names: Tradition and Ceremony. They must, must, MUST come down. Too often we turn to them for comfort, as though their open embrace will somehow save us from ourselves. We hold our arms wide and wobble toward them like toddlers on unsteady legs knowing that one or the other will catch us when we fall.
Tradition and Ceremony aren’t always bad. We find comfort in knowing what will happen and what is expected. They give us a sense of belonging to something bigger than us. Here’s the problem: Like a benign tumor left unchecked, Tradition and Ceremony will kill us.
We become complacent in Tradition. We feel important with Ceremony. And we set aside the real reason for both.
Today my arms are tired from swinging my hammer. Tomorrow they will be, too. I might even need to melt into diva mode. But I’ll keep swinging because it’s the job I was given, and I’ll welcome anybody who cares to join me.
P.S. We’d love to know your thoughts; be sure to share in the comments section below. This month we will draw TEN winners from our commenters and the winners will receive one of these two books, Hope for a Hurting Heart or To Let You Know I Care by our featured author this month, Cheryl Karpen.
Kelly Heuer resides in Idaho and asserts that she is foremost a wife to her best friend and hero. Five children (plus a few extras) call her Mami, and she considers being a wife and mother to be her most important job and ministry. She is her church’s Music/AV Coordinator and serves as a song leader among other roles as needed. A missionary kid, Kelly lived in the Dominican Republic for 14 years learning to read and translate legal documents in both Spanish and English. She says one of the most important revelations of her time there was learning the value of writing in alleviating the pain of both internal and external struggles. She says while others might describe her as a survivor, she calls herself a fighter, a thriver, a winner. Kelly’s heart is to help women worldwide to go beyond survival and be freed to never again fear enslavement.
Read more encouraging stories from brave-hearted women here. Be sure to grab your free copy of inspirational quotes and writing prompts while you’re there. (Look over on the right hand side!)